


Miracle McCoy

by notfreyja, Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Series: Doubt The Stars [15]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-28 18:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10836909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfreyja/pseuds/notfreyja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: Turns out, Jim was only mostly dead. It's getting him to be mostly alive that will take a miracle.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Every time we think we're done this series, we just keep writing... Hope y'all don't mind.
> 
> Follow [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

Sarek shows up at the Pike house just in time for Chris to ram him with his chair.

 

“Shit, sorry— Ambassador Sarek?”

 

“Please, Chris, enough time has passed that you may be informal.” Sarek, to his credit, seems unruffled by Chris’ abrupt appearance, the fist that was about to knock instead moving to grip the handles of Chris’ wheelchair. “I came to speak with you about the sequence of events that led to Jim’s hospitalization, but if you are otherwise occupied—”

 

“If that’s the case, you ought to just tag along, Ambassador,” Chris says tightly. “Because I’m going to an emergency brass meeting to discuss exactly that. A diplomat who can keep his cool can only help, right now.”

 

“... I am uncertain I will be able to ‘keep my cool’,” Sarek says. “My son is… unwell.”

 

Yeah, Chris could see that, considering his soulmate/wife since the age of four actually, literally  _ died. _

 

“That’s alright too,” he says. “Considering the damage reports, I’d say that the admiralty has recently developed a healthy fear of angry Vulcans.”

 

“Spock lost control.”

 

“Yeah, he did.” Chris smiles just a little despite himself. “It was pretty awesome, according to Winona.”

 

“She would think that.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


“The fact is, we weren’t keeping an eye on things, and Marcus built a goddamn warship under our noses!” Chris slams his fist on the table. “Unless you’re telling me that we’ve really become this paranoid, this morally bankrupt, then he had accomplices!”

 

“Pure speculation,” Admiral Barnett says. “Until we can gain access to his files, we have no option but to assume—”

 

“Really? Are you gonna try and filibuster this shit?”

 

“Improper use of the word, Admiral,” Sarek whispers.

 

Chris rolls his eyes and reaches into his bag, pulling out a PADD.

 

“This,” he says, sliding it across the table. “Was gifted to me by an anonymous source. Everything there was collected from Marcus’ personal data files, detailing his plans for the Federation.”

 

Admiral Archer lifts the PADD with gnarled, steady hands, eyes darting across the screen before huffing out a laugh.

 

“He seriously thought we’d be make him a war chief?” he says, passing the PADD along. “The closest that boy ever got to combat was in a simulator. Fucking brat.”

 

Nobody tries to disagree with him.

 

“Admiral Pike is likely correct in his assumption that Marcus was not working alone,” Sarek offers. “The technology used in the making of the  _ USS Vengeance _ has some basis in experimental Vulcan technologies. At the very least, he had help in gathering the data required to begin building the  _ Vengeance _ — not to mention the weaponry is distinctly…” he trails off.

 

“Sarek?”

 

Sarek straightens.

 

“It is Romulan in make, though beyond their current technologies,” he says. “If I were to hazard a guess, I would think that some of this weaponry is poached from the remains of the  _ Narada _ herself.”

 

“The Narada fell into a black hole,” Admiral Richard points out, irritated.

 

“Exactly.” Sarek arches an eyebrow. “Which begs the question— how did Admiral Marcus obtain these weapons despite the apparent loss of the ship and its crew?”

 

Chris closes his eyes.

  
Shit has just gotten  really, really complicated.


	2. Chapter 2

Bones has hope, but hope doesn’t keep people alive on its own. It needs help, from doctors and nurses and weird, highly unstable, experimental medicine.

 

Either way, he gets the job done. Jim’s breathing on his own again by day three. Which is  _ awesome,  _ by the way.

 

Yes, they hit the seventy-two hour mark with Jim no longer needing any life support. All his organ systems are functional, radiation poisoning is nowhere to be seen, and Bones is honestly considering telling people to call him Miracle McCoy.

 

Just one _ little _ problem.

 

The damn kid won’t wake up.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Bones doesn’t know why he decides to put on  _ The Princess Bride  _ — okay, scratch that, he knows  _ exactly why,  _ it’s the brat’s favorite movie and he’s trying to trigger something here. What he  _ doesn’t  _ know is why he  _ leaves it on. _

 

The movie ends at about 0200, and Jim’s still out, and Spock has passed out on the extra bed they stole for him (green blooded son of a bitch wouldn’t leave him alone to work), and Bones is too tired to pick another movie so he just… sets it to play on loop.

 

Where it stays.

 

In fact, it’s still playing when he gets back from his far too short of a nap in the break room at about the crack of dawn.

 

Fortunately, Gaila has taken up residency in a chair by Jim’s head, and holds out an extra cup of coffee. Bones takes it and starts inhaling.

 

“Remind me that I owe you one the next time you piss me off.”

 

She chuckles, startling Spock awake. “Morning sunshine!”

 

And Spock, Bones now knows he’s  _ really  _ not himself because he yawns, rubs his eyes, and mumbles, “Morning.”

 

The Vulcan  _ mumbled. _

 

Shit.

 

Bones bites his tongue, though. Sarek had come by the other day, and basically told him that Spock is going to be a hot mess psychologically until his brain can reattach to Jim’s. It was a long speech. Full of long words. And Bones might not be a Vulcan mind healer, but he got the gist.

 

Spock and Jim’s brains have been connected for so long, that neither of them can quite function properly with the bond broken.

 

Len really doesn’t want to think about what that means for Jim’s chances of recovery.

 

“Gaila, I’m glad you’re here.”

 

She grins, and starts carding her hand through Jim’s hair. “It’s because of the coffee, isn’t it?”

 

“Not entirely. I need to talk to both of you, and it’ll be easier to do at one time.”

 

Spock and Gaila both stiffen slightly, neither one of them quite sure that they want to know what it is that McCoy has to say.

 

“I won’t beat around the bush: I’ve done all I can for Jim. His body is fully healed, technically there is nothing wrong with him.”

 

Spock tilts his head. “While your statement ought to be considered good news, you do not appear to be pleased.”

 

“That’s because he’s in a coma.” Bones sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s nothing I can do for him anymore, it’s a waiting game now.”

 

The other two sit in silence for a long moment, but Gaila does not stroking Jim’s hair. “Can he hear us?”

 

“Theoretically. No way to know for sure, though.”

 

She frowns, but nods. Bones takes another look at Jim’s monitors. His brain activity is so damn low it makes him want to scream. But he’s a doctor, damn it, not a soap actor.

 

“You guys want me to put on something else?” he asks, heading over towards the holoplayer.

 

“Don’t touch it!” Spock snaps.

 

Bones freezes in place, unsure what the correct reaction would be here.

 

The Vulcan sighs. “Apologies, Doctor. I simply believe this is the film most likely to get Jim’s attention, should he in fact be aware of his surroundings.”

 

Gaila nods. “He has a point, Len.”

 

“Okay. Fine, leave it on. I need a shower, call me if he so much as  _ twitches. _ ”

 

Gaila shoots him a thumbs up, as Spock nods seriously.

 

The hour he spends away from the hospital may turn out to be one of the most stressful of Bones’ life. It’s not that he’s paranoid or anything— it’s just that Jim’s is a magnet for disaster,  especially lying, helpless and comatose, in a public hospital, without Bones there to make sure a nurse doesn’t put something he’s allergic to down his feeding tube.

 

Nope, not paranoid at all.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Starfleet Command has lost it’s collective mind, Chris decides about ten minutes into the latest Admiralty meeting. Which is happening at about 0700. In a windowless room.

 

Not shady at all, right?

 

And it starts like a normal meeting, which is (surprisingly) the weird part. But maybe Chris’ coffee just hasn’t kicked in yet, but it seems like there’s no segway to be found when the conversation turns to Marcus. Or rather, the mess he’s left behind.

 

“The fact of the matter is, we need someone we can trust heading Section 31, even if it’s only temporary. We can’t have them unorganized right now, not with the current investigations.”

 

Well. That’s one way to open a dialogue.

 

“So, is it safe to assume that we’re handing them  _ The Vengeance  _ and that whole clusterfuck?” Chris ventures.

 

He gets a chuckle from Archer, “Nothing’s decided for certain, Pike. But that wouldn’t be the  _ worst _ thing, would it?”

 

“It would be,” Pike insists, “if we just happen to replace him with one of his co-conspirators.”

 

“We could promote from within their ranks.” Offers another Admiral, pursing her lips.

 

Barnett nods, “Commander Kirk has shown promise in field operations.”

 

“ _ No! _ ” It comes out almost as a scream. Which is bad. But Chris would rather die than let Winona have that much power. “With all respect to Kirk, she’s not suited. And I would know, she was my Chief Engineer for almost twenty years.”

 

The rest of the table seems to take that a face value, thank the stars. That was almost a catastrophe of a galactic scale.

 

A few more names are tossed around, all of which Christopher shoots down without mercy. Eventually, after over an hour of this, someone shouts in frustration, “Damn it, Chris, is there anyone in the ‘Fleet that you actually  _ do  _ trust?”

 

Pike snorts. “Yeah. My wife.”

 

He waits for the laughter, but it never comes.

 

In fact, far too many faces are looking pleasantly surprised, as if they’ve suddenly come to an agreement.

 

They’re still not laughing.

 

What has he done? 


	3. Chapter 3

It has been six days since Leonard made himself comfortable in the Starfleet ICU, six days since Jim went from dead to only  _ mostly _ dead in an OR not ten feet down the hall. It’s been six days since Leonard turned on  _ The Princess Bride _ on a whim, hoping for a reaction from the otherwise steady (if base) brain activity illustrated on the screen to the left of Jim’s bed.

 

He has yet to turn off  _ The Princess Bride. _

 

At first, it’s a mildly irritating piece of background noise that Bones accepts as just another side effect of being Jim’s friend. He’s seen the movie quite a few times since the kid became his roommate all those years ago, can quote it line by line just as well as Jim himself— or at least, that’s what he thought _ before _ it became a constant buzz in the back of Leonard’s mind; the score an endless soundtrack to long days of checking vitals and pretending he isn’t losing his mind.

 

Because, see, the movie has been playing on loop since he turned the damn thing on six days ago, morning, noon, and deepest dark of night. It doesn’t even register anymore, like elevator music or the slow, steady beep that is supposed to signify Jim’s heart.

 

Bones catches himself murmuring along to the script as he bends over Jim’s hospital bed, humming the soundtrack and miming out swordfights scene-by-scene whenever his hands aren’t occupied. Chapel doesn’t say anything about it when she catches him, but Christine’s a good sort, one who likes to keep embarrassing information like Leonard’s absent-minded Mel Brooks impressions to herself.

 

He knew he liked that woman.

 

Jim’s visitors? The other doctors and nurses that pass by the glass room at all times of the day? They aren’t as willfully oblivious.

 

Gaila now has footage of his entire rendition of the Miracle Max scene, to be shown to Jim upon waking. She says it’s because Jim keeps missing his line, but Leonard knows it’s so the next time he tries to order her around, she has suitable blackmail.

 

Let no one say Number One didn’t have a hand in raising her stepdaughter.

 

The other on-duty nurses are worse. One of them even put in for him to have a psych eval— which Leonard honestly doesn’t blame her for, he’s probably entirely insane at this point thanks to Jim, except she also tried to sell some of Jim’s coma pictures to some celebrity magazine, too, so…

 

Yeah, she doesn’t work for Starfleet anymore.

 

He’s not the only one who does it, though. Chapel spends enough time in Jim’s room to know when to jump into a scene, playing Miracle Max’s wife or Buttercup or the old hag in Buttercup’s nightmares. She makes for an excellent Humperdink, and her Albino? Spot on.

 

(Yeah, Bones has probably lost his mind, but at least he’s not alone, if Christine’s anything to go by.)

 

“Hey, hello in there! What’s so important?” Bones asks as he presses two fingers to Jim’s wrist. “What’cha got here, that’s worth living for?”

 

On the screen behind his head, Miracle Max is bent over the ever-beautiful Wesley, asking the same thing.

 

_ Come on, Jim, _ Bones thinks, eyes trained intently on the screen displaying Jim’s brain waves.  _ You know your line. Gimme your line, I know you want to. _

 

But Jim doesn’t, hasn’t for the last six days despite the near perfect setup. That’s how Bones knows there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done.

 

After all, Jim would never miss a chance to play the Dread Pirate Roberts.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The official decision is made, Number One will be the new head of Section 31. 

 

Chris knows there will be a formal summons to offer her the position, and a promotion ceremony, with all the bells and whistles that entails. He also knows that he really ought not to tell his wife the (not) good news. 

 

Yet the second he wheels into their house, he just starts yelling, “You’re getting a promotion whether you like it or not, honey!”

 

Number One materializes into the living room. “Explain.”

 

He shakes his head. “That’s all you’re getting out of me, woman.”

 

She shoots him the murder eyes. Not the good ones, though. Chris will live another day.

 

A day where  _ Number One  _ controls all of the ‘Fleet’s blackops. 

 

On second thought, it might be best if she just killed him now.

  
  


*.*

  
  


When Number One actually gets the summons to an actual meeting with an Admiral she’s not married to, Chris kisses what little sanity he has left goodbye.

 

She leaves in a huff, abandoning Christopher with the twins immediately post lunch time. Which is fine. It’s not like he doesn’t know how to make two-year-olds burn off excess sugar. He’s their dad after all.

 

That and he helped raise Jimmy Kirk.

 

The same Kirk who really did Chris and Number One a solid when he broke into their yard and constructed a monster of a playset in the first ten hours of Be and Connor’s lives.

 

Jim’s a good kid.

 

If he doesn’t wake up, Chris will kill him. For good this time.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Number One:

You already know what I have to tell you.

 

Chris Pike:

Yeah.

 

Number One:

You will be pleased to learn that I put up a good fight. 

 

Chris Pike:

I expected nothing less.

 

Number One:

I will still be an hour or so, I must now go tell James. He will be annoyed with my rising two ranks in five minutes.

 

Chris Pike:

He’s still in a coma, One.

 

Number One:

Exactly. He can not interrupt.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Chris loves his family. He really does. But it’s nice to have some peace and quiet (and he means  _ real _ quiet, not the ominous there-might-be-an-Illyrian-planning-something quiet). But his wife is out of the house, the kids are politely only trying to murder each other in the backyard, making enough noise in shouts and laughter mixed in equal pieces that he could keep tabs on them.

 

It’s frankly, a rare slice of normalcy.

 

For about twelve minutes.

 

And then there comes a knock upon the door.

 

“Coming!” Chris sighs as he shuts the fridge door, having been thirty seconds away from his first beer in over two weeks. He’s ready to give whoever this asshole is a piece of his mind, but when he yanks the handle it is none other than Sarek once again on the other side of the frame.

 

“I hope I am not intruding.”

 

Pike blinks away his shock. “No, not at all, Ambassador.”

 

“Sarek, please.”

 

“Of course. Sarek, what can I do for you today?”

 

“I was merely hoping to follow up with you about our discussion with Starfleet Command yesterday. To the best of your ability, of course.”

 

Chris’ smile goes easy, “Yeah, come on in, make yourself at home.” He glides backwards, gesturing for the Vulcan to head on through to the back patio. “I’ll meet you out there. Hershey bar?”

 

Sarek’s eyebrow shoots up.

 

“Pardon me?”

 

“Neither of us can be sober for this conversation.”

 

A strange sort of understanding passes over the Ambassador’s face. “Say no more.”

  
  
*.*


	4. Chapter 4

The thing about Film Club is…  _ everyone’s _ in Film Club. Whether it was meant to happen that way or not, it did, and now the entirety of the Alpha bridge crew is piled on pilfered hospital mattresses that have been pushed together to fill the extra half of Jim’s room. This could be problematic, except they’ve made certain to build their fort of mattresses and pillows well out of Leonard’s way, tucking a dozen full-grown adults into a four-by-four space in the corner.

 

Their chatter would be annoying, except it’s a welcome change from the usual  _ Princess Bride Broadcast _ he’s been dealing with the last week and change.

 

Today is another, average day. No one has any meetings, for once, which is what prompted the Film Club meeting. It’s not often the full club is together anymore, thanks to work (Spock) and sleep (Sulu) and off-screen canoodling (Chekov), but today is an exception. So here they all are, piled up on Jim’s floor, ready and waiting.

 

Except…

 

Except, the club president picks the movie, and the club president is currently laid up with a bad case of coma.

 

Bones never thought he’d get to see Game of Thrones remade a seventh time, but here it is.

 

“I get to be president,” Gaila says. “I’m his sister and I’ve been in the club longest after Mommy.”

 

“I am his husband, Gaila,” Spock points out. “If succession is to be determined by relation, my claim supersedes yours.”

 

“But—”

 

“I could be president,” Hikaru muses. “Don’t you think, Ben? I have excellent movie taste.”

 

Ben nods agreeably, nibbling on a handful of popcorn.

 

“You can be anything you wanna be, babe.”

 

“You can’t be president, Sulu— you’re the mascot!”

 

“Hikaru the Houseplant, never forget,” Scotty agrees. “You can’t be both the president and mascot, lad.”

 

Hikaru pouts, “Fair enough.”

 

“So that settles it,” Gaila declares triumphantly. “I’m the Acting President.”

 

“By what claim?” T’Pring inquires.

 

“Length of club membership.”

 

“Then it should once again go to me.” Spock insists, as I was the first non-Kirk extended an invitation, be it a long distance one at the time.”

 

Bones is going to kill them all. “Who would Jim pick?”

 

“Spock.” Uhura sighs. “But that’s not fair, because everyone knows Spock’s his favorite.”

 

The room erupts into chaos, everyone shouting over each other and throwing around insults, and Bones is right on the verge of adding his own wordless screaming into the fray when Number One of all people walks through the door.

 

The room goes still.

 

“Chekov is acting president.” She declares.

 

“What?” Gaila’s betrayal is clear in her voice. “ _ Why? _ ”

 

“He has seen a far smaller percentage of Jim’s movies, and therefore has more of a say in what should be watched. He is behind, and should have the power to catch himself up.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am.” Pavel looks like a kid on Christmas and darts to grab the Holoplayer, already lost in the process of selecting a film.

 

“Now shut up.” Bones grumpily commands, “And watch whatever damn movie. Hey, Commander, thank you for that.”

 

“It is Admiral now.”

 

Bones can do nothing but blink.

 

“I am here to speak with James.”

 

He just leaves her to it.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Days go by, with no change. There is an endless parade in and out of Jim’s hospital room, an ever-constant changing of the guard.

 

Spock is there almost as much as Bones is. He sits silently through the days and nights, reading, doing paperwork, and sometimes just watching Jim. He leaves to change and to shower, and goes to meetings when he must.

 

Gaila is there at least once a day. She updates Jim’s motionless body of the drama and the gossip of their crew. Tells him what his family’s up to. On one memorable occasion, she did his nails. They’ve been bright blue ever since.

 

Uhura uses him as a soundboard. She sits and rants, in languages Bones doesn’t understand but Jim probably does, the topics a complete mystery to the doctor.

 

Chekov brings work with him, going over endless equations and formulas, telling Bones he’s having Jim ‘check his work.’ However that goes.

 

Sulu has lunch with Jim. Every day, without fail, he shows up at noon with take out and eats in complete silence, eerily reminiscent of when they were in the Academy. Really, though— he won’t answer when Bones asks him a question or attempts to start a conversation. He just sits there, begging to be spritzed by an increasingly irritated Leonard McCoy. 

 

God, they were so innocent then.

 

Scotty appears at random, updates Jim on the ship. He shows his schematics and photos, and asks his opinion on modifications. And although Jim never speaks, the engineer always seems happy with the answers— which just helps Leonard build his case against the Scotsman, honestly. The man is definitely suffering from delusions.

 

T’Pring plays him music. It’s sad, and it’s sweet, and if Spock hadn’t already proven it, that first time Bones heard her play would have been the moment he realized Vulcans do, in fact, have hearts.

 

Pike comes, too. But he doesn't say much. Number One just holds a completely single-sided conversation with Jim whenever she’s in the room.

 

Winona? She’s in and out. Never staying longer than five minutes, but she comes, at least. According to Chris, it’s an improvement over what happened all those years ago, the last time Jim was bed-ridden.

 

(Leonard doesn’t like to think about the last time Jim was bed-ridden. He’s heard stories, stories that make him want to let people die on his operating table. Or off his operating table. Either way, it involves the careful application of knives.)

 

And  _ The Princess Bride  _ keeps playing under it all, and time passes whether Bones wants it to or not.

 

Before he knows it, it’s been eight days since Jim died. And Leonard doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s getting worried. Really worried.

  
He needs another miracle. Preferably coated in chocolate. Maybe with a side of bourbon, who knows.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s on day nine that Bones starts thinking the worst. He’s avoided the thought to the best of his ability thus far, but the fact of the matter is, that Jim just might… not wake up. Sure, Len saved his life, but in the end, he might actually have died that day.

 

So when everyone else has gone home for the night, he pulls together all of his will power, and starts the most difficult conversation of his life.

 

“Spock, we need to talk.”

 

The Vulcan puts down the PADD he had been scrolling down, “Then talk.”

 

“We need to start considering the long-term, here.”

 

“We need to do no such thing.”

 

And that’s so  _ Jim  _ of him, that stubborn determination that it’s not over until it’s over. It breaks Leonard’s damn heart. 

 

“Spock—”

 

“We are not giving up on him. He would not give up on either of us.”

 

“I would never. Fuck, Spock. I would  _ never _ .”

 

He can see Spock’s anxiety lessen there, which is good. Because this is a very important conversation that Bones needs to have with his patient’s next of kin, not a potential soap-opera moment with his emotionally repressed friend.

 

“Then what are you suggesting?”

 

“I’m not suggesting anything. It’s just that I need you to start thinking of your long term plans, should the worst happen.”

 

“I see.”

 

And Bones, he hates this, this is by far the worst part of his job. Spock looks like he’s collapsing under the weight of the world, and Bones is his  _ friend,  _ damn it. He pauses the movie. This conversation is far too serious to be underscored by Inigo Montoya’s battle with the six fingered man.

 

“ _ My name is Inigo Montoya, you— _ ” Then silence.

 

“Doctor, I do not know what I should do.”

 

Bones knows how hard ignorance is for the Vulcan to admit. But he’s just as clueless. He can’t be impartial here, it’s  _ Jim _ they’re talking about.

 

Jim, whose brain waves just spiked.

 

“ _ Fuck! _ ”

 

“What is happening?”

 

Bones is frantic now, checking everything he can think of, reading every line of data the monitors will give him. “An improvement. A  _ huge improvement! _ ”

 

“What now?”

 

“We hope it sticks.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Sarek turns out to be Chris new best friend. He starts coming over for dinner a few nights a week, plays with the twins, and even gets along great with Number One.  _ Number One,  _ of all people.

 

But it’s on one particular night after the kids have gone to bed and One is up in the office working on whatever new scary Section 31 thing she has to do that Chris gets the Ambassador trashed.

 

He’s never seen a Vulcan drunk before— no, that’s a lie. He remembers Jim’s wedding, and he distinctly remembers all the Vulcans (except Sarek) were too fucked up to drive. He should amend the statement. He has never seen a  _ real _ Vulcan grownup drunk. He has never seen a real Vulcan grownup who is also a very fancy Ambassador for the Federation drunk. He has never seen a real Vulcan grownup who is also a very fancy Ambassador for the Federation and named Sarek drunk.

 

It is the funniest damn thing Pike has ever seen, and he has seen Jimmy Kirk in a bra.

 

But it’s two in the morning, Chris is tired and drunk, and Sarek is  _ amazingly _ intoxicated, and somehow the conversation turns to their kids. Well, Sarek’s kid. And Chris’ (kind of but not really his kid) Kirk-kid.

 

“So this one time, I find him in the wall of the bridge, right? And he looked so surprised to get caught, he was fucking spread eagle upside down, arms shaking with his own weight. I barely caught him before he fell!”

 

And Sarek chuckles, The Vulcan honest-to-god  _ chuckles, _ and Chris has a moment where he thinks he might actually be dead and this is the weirdest afterlife ever.

 

“I must show you a photograph.” And Sarek pulls out his comm, hurriedly goes through files and thrusts the most beautiful image Chris has ever seen into his face.

 

The backdrop is clearly Vulcan, a grand manor behind the group that can only be Sarek’s ‘place of residence.’ Jim is small and frail and all too skinny, settled front and center in the photograph, — or he was, because it’s clear he is in the middle of being flung to the ground by Spock, whose other arm is extended in a panicked punch. Gaila, the poor target of the hit, is in the air, head jerked sharply backwards, cheeks and lips squished by the combined force of Spock’s fist and gravity.

 

Behind them, Sybok is diving to catch Jim, clearly not going to make it in time, as Sam’s arm is flung across T’Pring’s chest, making a wild grab for his friend’s robe. And through all the chaos, T’Pring remains the perfect picture of Vulcan stoicism.

 

Chris loses his shit.

 

“What  _ is this _ ?”

 

Sarek shakes his head. “Amanda wanted a portrait before Jim and Sam returned to your ship. We set the children up, but Gaila came running in and jumped in at the last moment, startling my son. He was rather protective of his bondmate at the time, and this was the result.”

 

Chris laughs so hard he cries.

 

“Send it to me. Now. I need this.”

 

“Yes, Christopher.”

 

He has to show  _ everyone _ .

  
  


*.*

  
  


Turns out, Jim’s need to finish movie quotes is so ingrained into his very soul that pausing  _ The Princess Bride  _ during a key cinematic moment may have been the greatest decision of Bones’ medical career.

 

Being Jim’s friend has really skewed Len’s perspectives on things.

 

But after the first improvement, he just keeps getting better. By the end of day eleven, Jim’s back to normal. At least, according to monitors. There technically is nothing keeping him under. He’s ship-shape. Right as rain.

 

But he just stays under.

 

It’s getting to the point that Leonard is considering hitting him with a stimulant just to see what happens when he has the most obvious brilliant idea ever.

 

“Hey Spock?”

 

“Yes Doctor?”

 

“Go get him.”

 

There's a beat of silence as the implications of his words are registered. “Doctor, that would not be wise.”

 

“And why the hell not?”

 

“There is no way of knowing what his current state of mind is, or if it is indeed  _ his  _ mind. There can be no way to tell if a meld would damage him or myself further, or the risks of myself falling under with him in my current telepathic state.”

 

Which, all right, those are all fair points. But still. “Do you have a better idea?”

 

Spock’s mouth purses minutely. “I must admit that I do not.”

 

And with those words, Bones knows the decision is already made.

  
  


*.*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Jim's mind is not a pretty place.

 

In the end, Spock doesn’t take any more convincing. It’s day twelve when he comes to Bones when grim resolution in his eyes.

 

“This plan borders on imbecilic,” Spock says. “But it is necessary. When do you wish to proceed with the meld?”

 

Bones gulps. “As soon as I can hook you up to sensors.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Christine joins them, just in case the Doctor needs back up, should the worst happen and either of them start crashing. 

 

It’s not until Spock’s hand slide into the meld points of Jim’s face that Bones thinks this is a terrible plan. Spock was right. They have no idea what could happen. He might lose them both today.

 

But it’s too late. He’s already under.

 

So Bones can do nothing but wait.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Sliding into Jim’s mind feels like coming home. It’s chaotic and bright and so  _ Jim  _ that Spock, for the first time since the bond snapped, feels actual hope. But it’s just surface thoughts here, nothing of substance. Yet he can still feel the ragged broken edges of their bond trying to weave back together, to mend itself. Preventing the pull of that tug may just be the hardest thing Spock has ever done. But he manages it, somehow, with still no sign of Jim’s actual consciousness in sight. 

 

So he pushes farther.

 

And ends up on the bridge of a Starfleet vessel, that, while nearly identical, is not  _ The Enterprise.  _ And that is where he finds Jim.

 

“Spock!”

 

The Vulcan is barreled into, child arms wrapping around his middle in a crushing hug. Jimmy (and it really is Jimmy, he can’t be any older than nine) is gripping him so tight it’s to the point of pain.

 

“James, are you well?”

 

“I think so?” He releases his grip, taking a step back and wiping his eyes. “Just… I’m alone here, I can’t  _ find  _ anyone, and the ship is weird.”

 

The dots suddenly connect. “James, are we on  _ The Farragut _ ?”

 

“Where else would we be?”

 

Fair enough.

 

“What exactly is amiss?”

 

Jimmy sniffles, hand closing around Spock’s wrist, like he used to do. “Everyone’s gone, Spock. And, i went looking for them, and I— I found bad things.”

 

And it comes in a rush, all of it. Number One’s quarters a river of blood. Medbay, substituted with the room on  _ The Narada  _ where Jim had found Captain Pike, instruments of torture visible through the open door, but the man himself nowhere to be found. The mess hall, replaced with a field of dead crops, covered in the same ghostly white that has haunted both their dreams for over ten years.

 

Sam’s room, empty and barren, no evidence of the older brother having ever existed in the first place. Winona’s room locked, and impossible wall of steel that could not be breached, Jimmy finding himself completely shut out, cut off.

 

A note in Gaila’s hand on top of Jim’s bed. He does not know the words themselves, but he knows without a doubt that Gaila herself is gone. Nothing left of her but an apology upon a scrap of paper, the small proof of her loss seeming to fill the entire room.

 

Frame after frame of messages from Spock’s comm that he would never even dream of sending ( _ I hate you, We are not friends, Cease speaking to me, I would prefer it if we had never met… _ )

 

And there’s more, there’s so much  _ more,  _ and it’s hitting Spock in one crushing wave after the other, the only way to escape being breaking the meld.

 

So he does the opposite. He collapses to the floor, holds James’ small form to him, and waits for the horror show to end.

 

There’s no telling how long it takes, but eventually, it does.

 

“I’ve been staying on the bridge,” Jimmy offers. “It’s the only place that feels right.”

 

Spock holds him impossibly tighter, presses a kiss into his hair.

 

“What’s happening to me?”

 

He does not know what he should do. What the correct thing to say is. So he tells the truth. “James, you are in a coma.”

 

“What?”

 

“You are not aboard  _ The Farragut.  _ You are in a Starfleet hospital, and you are not alone. You have never been alone, not for one instant since the moment you went under.”

 

“You’re with me?”

 

“I am. And so is everyone else.”

 

Recognition passes across his too-wide eyes, and the scene changes. They’re in their quarters now. On their ship. Jim back to his own age, but no less frightened.

 

“Adun, I’m alone.” He’s on the verge of hysterics, and Spock is powerless to stop it. “You’re not in my head with me and I can’t find you.”

 

Spock sighs. “I am here now.”

 

Jim manages to pull himself together. “So, a coma?”

 

There is nothing to say.

 

“Long story?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

And Jim, he laughs. He just belts out his perfect amazing laugh, the one Spock thought he would never hear again, and for that one instant, everything is right with the universe.

 

“You have to go, don’t you? We’re in my head, and you can’t stay, I can feel that much from you.”

 

“I would if I could, ashayam.”

 

Jim smiles. “I know.”

 

And then Spock feels a push, and he’s falling, falling out of the meld, and Jim’s mind slips away from him. He knows he shouldn’t fight it, but he  _ wants  _ to.

  
  


*.*

  
  


His eyes open, and he’s alone in his own mind once more, the Doctor standing over him in worry.

 

“Spock, thank God, I was starting to panic.”

 

The Vulcan can feel his eyes watering.

 

“Jim is going to wake up. Soon.”

 

And Bones, well, he curls in on himself quite suddenly, collapsing into what space Spock has left on the little bed, lying against JIm’s other side.

 

It must be nice to be Human, Spock thinks, awkwardly patting the doctor’s hair. They can simply cry.


	7. Chapter 7

The thing that Bones wishes more people understood is that actual medicine is nothing like what they show in the movies.

People don’t just blink awake from a coma, rub the sleep out of their eyes, and move on. The process is slow, and it’s hard to watch.

Jim starts moving a few hours after the meld. There’s no direction to it, no purpose. It’s just muscles remembering that they can in fact move. Sometimes the motions are small, a twitch of a finger, a small turn of the head. Sometimes they’re bigger.

On one memorable occasion, Sulu’s damnable takeout box is slapped out of his hands. Never has Bones moved to take a photo faster in his life.

And as funny as moments like that are, the overall process is excruciating. Every twitch of Jim’s body is a chance at him finally coming back to them. And each time is a false alarm.

Bones’ patience is starting to run thin.

  
*.*

  
“It won’t be long now,” Bones informs Spock on the morning of the fourteenth day. “At the speed he’s going, he should be fading in and out starting today, maybe tomorrow.”

The Vulcan nods contemplatively, his hand on Jim’s bare forearm.

Since that initial meld, Spock has kept near constant physical contact with his husband. It is not proper, not in public, but then Jim never has been one for propriety.

He dares not to risk another meld. He had barely kept the bond from re-forming, and Spock does not trust himself to prevent it a second time. And while it is not nearly sufficient, keeping in contact with Jim does allow enough telepathy for communication.

And oh does Jim communicate.

Tell Bones he’s obsessed with me.

Spock sighs. “James would like you to know you are bordering on obsessive in regards to his care.”

“Fuck you, Jim.”

A spark of amusement flies from Jim’s skin to Spock’s mind. “He is laughing, Doctor.”

“Of course he fucking is.” Bones sighs, and sits on the foot of Jim’s bed. “You know, I’ve never been able to talk to a coma patient before. It’s interesting.”

A ghost of a smile crosses Spock’s face. “As in most things, James is a special case.”

“That he is.”

Aw, guys. I love you too.

Bones smiles at Jim’s inexpressive face. “Wake the fuck up, kid.”

And just a few hours later, he finally does. Almost.

  
*.*

  
Jim’s dying. He’s definitely dying and it’s definitely bad. Spock’s there, and there’s a good-bye. It’s not the most poetic farewell ever. Nothing anyone will sing songs about, but Jim does his best (cut him some slack, his brain is a little radiation fried).

And then it’s over.

And then it’s not?

What comes next (if there even is a next) is confusing as hell.

Eventually Spock rescues him from his own mind and has Jim mentioned how much he loves that man? Because he really does.

And that’s when shit starts getting really weird.

Feeling comes back first. There’s the brush of a hand against his forehead, fingers running through his hair. There’s the spike of a needle into his arm.

And if Jim can feel then he definitely has a body to feel things with. And bodies move.

  
*.*

  
Time has no meaning wherever he is. There’s no way to measure it, no reference to frame it against. But time must be passing, in some fashion or another because eventually, Jim gets sound.

And it’s glorious.

Bones is there, he can hear him. He’s far away and under water, but he’s there. So is Spock. Which is just beyond awesome. For no matter what happens, Jim knows the two of them will make sure he comes out of it okay. And they’ll watch out for each other, too. Since Jim can’t.

Other voices come and go. He hears Gaila, and T’Pring, and Uhura has been practicing her Andorian. He hears the Sulus, both of them (though Ben is a lot more talkative than Hikaru, which is weird). Pike makes an appearance, as does Number One, and the twins too.

And then Spock’s touching him, their minds brush together, it’s shallow, but he’s there. And then Jim hears his husband gasp. Vulcans do not gasp.

“He can hear us.”

Jim gets his ears talked off after that. And through Spock, he can even reply a little. It’s weird, and it takes effort, but it’s doable.

  
*.*

  
“So anyway, Scotty wants to keep harassing you about the refit, but I told him that it’s not fair to do that when you can hear us, and that’s too much translating for Spock to do, and…” Galia keeps talking, and talking, and talking. Jim loves his sister, he really does. But this one-sided conversation thing has got to stop. Soon. “... so anyway I managed to hold him off a little longer and you totally owe me one, brother mine.”

“Mhmm,” he answers, eyes blinking open.

Wait just a damn minute.

He’s awake!

Gaila’s has the same realization and the same freak out, and she’s screaming for Bones. But the light is really uncomfortably bright and Jim’s eyes are heavy, he’s so damn tired, and…

He’s gonna have to try this again later.

  
*.*

  
It takes a few tries. And each time he think’s he’s got it, everyone around him flips the fuck out. Well, everyone but Bones. Bones is saving his freak outs for one big one, Jim can tell.

And then it sticks.

Jim opens his eyes, and he doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. Bones is there, no one else.

“Hey, kid. How you feeling?”

“Okay?” God, his voice is terrible. How long has it been since he tried to talk?

“Feeling homicidal? Delusions of grandeur?”

“No more than usual.” And that’s when Spock walks in. “Hey.”

“Jim.” Spock practically teleports to his side, grabs him by both sides of his face and crashes their lips together. It’s not really a kiss, not a first. But it gets softer, gentler, and Jim’s insides do a little twist, and —

“Fucking teenagers!”

And Jim can do nothing but laugh as Spock blushes bright green. “Sorry, Bones.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes,” Leonard grumbles, mumbling to himself as he heads out, “Save his damn life and this is the fucking thanks I get.”

Bones slams the door on his way out.

It’s good to be back.


	8. Chapter 8

Jim is ready to kill everyone by his third day of actually being alive again.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t love the bunch of idiots, because he does. He really does. The problem here is that no one will leave him alone. There’s a fucking parade through the door of his hospital room. Which would be fine, except Jim hasn’t had a single moment to himself since he woke up.

 

And he needs a minute. Or ten.

 

It’s no big deal really. He’s just dealing with the fact that he died, got better, was in a coma, and technically no longer has a bondmate. Which is just the tip of the fucking iceberg really because Jim’s brain doesn’t even know how to function without Spock in there too.

 

He needs a drink. But Bones said no alcohol.

 

The only plus side is that Jim now has matching wheelchairs with Pike. And yeah, he’s only going to be in his for a few weeks, but still. He’ll take whatever chance at torturing Space Dad that he can get.

 

But the parade doesn’t end. And it truly is a parade. Somehow the fact that’s he’s up and (sort of but not really) about gets around. So now Jim has a guard on his door and hospital visiting hours bear a striking resemblance to Disney World.

 

The lines and weird obsessive behavior part. Not the rides, food, and fireworks part. Which is a shame, because Jim could really use some food of the non-hospital variety. (It’s not that the food itself is bad, it’s all replicated. It’s more that the Bones-approved ‘List of Things Jim Can Eat’ is downright depressing).

 

Yeah… Jim needs a drink.

 

 

*.*

 

 

 

There is a routine, a simple one, one that Jim understands very well. Spock, Uhura, Scotty, Gaila, Sulu, Chekov, Bones— they all have designated times, specific hours, special hours of free time set aside just for him. Except for Bones, because Bones is pretty much there all the time because he’s a real, bonafide doctor, just like Jim.

 

(Bones tends to forget Jim’s a doctor too, which is kind of funny if it weren’t for the fact that Jim forgets most of the time, too.)

 

So imagine the panic that sets in when Jim wakes up from yet another nightmare (Spock’s sad, Jim’s dying, Spock’s  _ screaming) _ to find someone who isn’t Spock, Uhura, Scotty, Gaila, Chekov, or Bones sitting beside his bed in the dark.

 

_ “Jesus holy fuck—” _

 

“Calm yourself, Jim. It is only me.”

 

And— wait. Jim knows that voice, recognizes that dorky little bowl cut that’s not black like Spock’s or salt-and-pepper like Sarek’s. That’s… Spock. The _ other _ Spock. Old Spock.

 

Jim throws himself back down on his pillows, chest heaving.

 

“Hi, Spock,” he says, rolling his head just enough so he can meet the shadow where Spock’s eyes are supposed to be. “Or, Ambassador? I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell you two apart.”

 

“I am substantially older,” Old Spock offers, and that’s just damn unhelpful, in Jim’s opinion.

 

“... Right.” Jim clears his throat. “So, what’s up?”

 

“Nothing particularly pressing,” Spock admits. “I heard of your recent brush with death and thought it prudent to see how you were faring.”

 

Yeah, in the middle of the night, while Jim was sleeping.

 

“Call me crazy, but I get the feeling you didn’t exactly wanna talk to me.”

 

The shadows hide Spock’s eyebrows, which isn’t great when Jim’s only reliable way of telling what he’s thinking is through the clever interpretation of microexpressions.

 

“... I admit to some trepidation,” he agrees after a moment. “When I learned of the actions you took to ensure the lives of your crew I was… alarmed.”

 

It takes Jim a second, but he has this… this feeling, like he might understand— _ oh. _

 

“So it _ is  _ what you would’ve done,” he muses carefully. “It’s what you did. So, how’s it feel to be on the outside looking in?”

 

“The events which led to your death are both strange and uncomfortably familiar,” Spock says. “I find myself… troubled by the similarities. I wonder if perhaps your actions were influenced by our meld.”

 

Jim thinks about it.

 

“Well, maybe,” he says after a minute. “I mean, I didn’t _ exactly  _ remember what you did until just now— but I guess you could make a case for subconscious awareness… I wouldn’t be too bothered about it, honestly. The plan was crazy enough that I just might have thought it up on my own, regardless.”

 

Spock tilts his head.

 

“When I came to the decision to do what was needed, I made the decision based on what I thought Jim— my Jim— would do,” he says.

 

“Sounds like a feedback loop.”

 

“Perhaps.” There’s a smile in Spock’s voice, quiet, yes, but most certainly there. “If there is one thing that has been made clear to me in my travels, it is this— in every incarnation, you and I… find each other, one way or another.”

 

Jim smiles.

 

“That’s good,” he says. “Because, quite frankly? Between the two of us— and my Spock too, come to think of it— we’re absolute idiots on our own.”

 

“I am inclined to agree with you.”

 

Jim’s grin widens. “Am I this stupid in every universe?”

 

“Without a doubt.”

 

There’s comfortable silence for a moment before Jim ventures, “Can I ask you something? About your bondmate?”

 

Spock tenses slightly. “Within reason.”

 

“What was he like? In comparison to me, I mean?”

 

The Elder does not answer at first, and Jim thinks he’s crossed a line. Which would be fair. It was a little out of left field. But then the Vulcan speaks.

 

“He was the best and most brilliant being I have ever met, and will probably ever meet again. You are extremely similar. Almost identical, with some key differences.”

 

“Like what?”

 

Spock’s mouth quirks.

 

“He was shorter,” he says. “Rounder. Overly fond of the green uniform shirt— you know the one.”

 

“The wrap?” Jim grins. “I still have Pike’s old one, but I haven’t worn it in a while. I bet I could bring it back.”

 

“I am sure no one would stop you,” Spock says agreeably. “As to the wisdom of that decision, I believe thoughts of fashion are best left to the young.”

 

“You’re just jealous because—” Jim’s jaw cracks with the force of his yawn. “— because I could wear a sack and look hot.”

 

“Of course, Jim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freyja: Did you miss Spock Prime? Because I missed Spock Prime.


	9. Chapter 9

Carol has decided that she’s never going to be able to just _ explain  _ everything, she’s just not. The universe keeps fucking up whenever she thinks she has an opportunity to drop a line of  _ hey, mother of your child here! _ And she’s just not having it.

 

That doesn’t mean she can’t still introduce David, though. After all, Jim’s already offered her a place on the _ Enterprise.  _ He’s bound to figure out she has a son eventually, and really— David is a goddamn _ clone  _ of his father. Jim’s no idiot. He’ll take one look at the kid and put the pieces together himself, no explanation needed. Well, some explanation. David didn’t just show up in her cabbage patch, obviously, and Jim will probably feel guilty about… her. And David. Because Spock.

 

Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. Too bad she didn’t come to this conclusion  _ before _ getting to the hospital.

 

 

*.*

 

 

Carol was mistaken. Jim is, in fact, an idiot. He is an absolute moron, masquerading as a genius starship captain with perfect hair.

 

He didn’t notice a thing off about David, absolutely nothing. No, you know what he did instead? He signed David’s Officers of Starfleet Collector’s Edition Trading Cards— the ones that have his face on them, anyway— and made Doctor McCoy sign, too!

 

“Well, kid,” Doctor McCoy says as Jim steals away the pen once more. “You’ve officially got the rarest signature in the ‘fleet.”

 

“Really?” David asks. He’s starry-eyed, which would be adorable if it weren’t for the fact that he— a child once thought to be a prodigy— is also an idiot who couldn’t put the pieces together that he’s standing in front of his  _ father. _ “Why?”

 

“Because I’m never signing another goddamn trading card again.” Leonard snorts. “Honestly, my face on a baseball card? Who the hell would’ve thought…”

 

“It’s ‘cause you’re so cool,” David informs him plainly. “You do all sorts of stuff with medicine no one’s ever thought of before! You brought Captain Kirk back from the dead!”

 

Jim grins.

 

“See, Bones? You’re _ cool.” _

 

The irritability doesn’t lessen, but maybe that’s just Doctor McCoy’s face. He’s looking a little bit uneasy, now that Carol really looks at him. Maybe he’s worried Jim’s overexerting himself.

 

“Hey, brat.”

 

“Sammy!” Jim grins at the blond that steps into the room. “Dude, I wasn’t expecting you.”

 

Jim’s doppleganger snorts.

 

“Well, I wasn’t gonna,” he says. “But then Mommy told me some bullshit about you dying and coming back—” he freezes, eyes finding David. “Uh, who’s this?”

 

“This is David Marcus!” Jim says, patting the kid on the shoulder. “Carol’s kid. That’s Carol, by the way. Weapons specialist and a shiny new member of my crew. Carol, David, this is my brother, Sam Kirk. He’s kinda boring.”

 

Sam’s lip twists when he turns to shake Carol’s hand.

 

“Nice to meet you.”

 

Carol swallows, forcing a smile.

 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she says. “I wasn’t aware that Captain Kirk had any siblings.”

 

“Two, technically,” Sam says. “Our sister Gaila’s second in Engineering, you might have met her.”

 

“I have.”

 

“She’s the best,” Jim tells David conspiratorially. “We got into all sorts of trouble when we were kids.”

 

David’s eyes are like saucers.

 

“But didn’t you grow up on a spaceship?”

 

_ “Exactly.” _

 

 

*.*

 

 

Sam knew his brother was a dumbass, but this really takes the cake. After, oh, ten minutes of conversation? It’s made clear that Jim does not seem to be aware of the glaringly obvious fact that this kid— who’s very sweet, actually, sort of like what Jimmy was when he was _ really _ little— is a Kirk. Most likely a product of Jim Kirk, because Mom’s a little old to be popping out babies and Sam’s pretty sure he’d remember a girl like Carol. Carol’s _ beautiful. _

 

(His brother’s a lucky bastard, but then, Sam’s probably luckier, considering Aurie.)

 

Carol seems to be waiting for that moment of realization, but she doesn’t seem to know Jim as well as Sam does. If it doesn’t happen right away, it’s not going to happen at all— not until he’s straight up told, anyway. The Doctor seems to be just as aware of the truth as Sam is, judging by the way he keeps trying to force down strangled coughs whenever Jim says something stupid.

 

_ “Dude, I gotta say, you look just like your Mom.” _

 

No he doesn’t, Jim. He looks just like his Dad. Like _ you. _

 

_ “You’ve definitely got your Mom’s brains.” _

 

Maybe, but that look on his face when he’s thinking? That’s all Jim, right down to the way his tongue pokes out from between his teeth.

 

Sam is just so… stricken by how absurd this all is, he doesn’t realize Spock’s standing beside him until he speaks.

 

“Good afternoon, James.”

 

Jim cuts himself off mid-sentence, visibly brightening at Spock’s voice.

 

“Spock! I wasn’t expecting you for another hour, at least!” Jim grins and it’s like someone let the sun into the room. “Meet Carol’s kid, David— and sign his card, would you? David, this is Commander Spock, my first officer.”

 

“Hi.” David suddenly seems shy, curving back into the mattress where he’s settled, cross-legged, beside Jim.

 

“Hello, Mr. Marcus.” He steps easily around Doctor McCoy to allow for Jim to catch him by the sleeve and squeeze. His dark eyes are intently focused on David, studying, scrutinizing.

 

Sam glances at Carol. She looks… terrified.

 

“Spock, McCoy,” he says loudly, drawing Spock’s attention. “I saw Pike on my way up, said he wanted to talk to you when you had the chance. Said he’s down in the caf?”

 

“Perfect! I was dreaming of a cup of coffee, I really was.” Doctor McCoy catches Spock by the arm. “Come on, we’ll be back in a minute, I’m sure.”

 

“... Of course, Doctor.”

 

Jim smiles wryly.

 

“Duty awaits,” he says. “Don’t worry. David here’ll keep me entertained, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Way to sound excited, bud.”

 

Sam forces a smile.

 

“Well, I’ll head down too,” he says. “Aurie and the kids’ll be here soon, and you know how she is with directions. I reckon you’ll wanna see Sybok and Tulip, since you haven’t yet.”

 

“Damn right I do,” Jim says, smiling. “I got a niece, how weird!”

 

“Somehow, she still looks like us.” Sam glances at Carol, then at David. “Nice meeting you, Doctor Marcus. David.”

 

Doctor McCoy shuffles Spock out as quickly as he can manage, practically shoving him out the door after Sam.


	10. Chapter 10

“Nice work, Sam,” Bones mutters.

 

“No problem. You both saw that, right?”

 

The Vulcan interjects. “If you are referring to the fact that Jim shares sixty-three key facial recognition points with the young Mr. Marcus—”

 

“Yeah, that.”

 

“Then yes.” Spock’s voice goes tight. “David Marcus is Jim’s son.”

 

“I don’t think he’s aware of that fact,” Sam says softly. “Jimmy’s genius tends to fail him when it comes to the important stuff. I mean, look at  _ you.” _

 

“Carol was trying to tell him on the ship, I think,” Leonard says. “She kept trying to get his attention, but… She probably figured he’d figure it out if he just met the kid.”

 

“It is clear he did not,” Spock says. “Though how he could be unaware of a child is beyond me.”

 

“Well, look at the kid,” Leonard says. “He’s what, ten?”

 

“Approximately.”

 

“And, refresh my memory, Spock, but what major thing happened in Jim’s life ten years ago?”

 

Spock stops, horrible realization dawning across his face.

 

“... David is the product of self-harm.”

 

“That’s about par for the course,” Sam says, shrugging. That’s Jim, in a nutshell. “Question is, what do we do now?”

 

“He must be informed.”

 

“No!” Leonard shakes his head. “No, Spock, you can’t tell him.”

 

Spock’s mouth pulls into the Vulcan equivalent of a smile.

 

“Doctor, he is a father,” he says. “He must be told of this development in order to take responsibility.”

 

“Listen, Spock, that’s not our decision,” Sam says. “It’s Carol’s. Carol is the one who has to tell him.”

 

“But—”

 

“Human social things are important,” Sam interrupts. “This is a human social thing. If we say something before she manages to do it herself, unless it’s an emergency? The whole thing could blow up.”

 

“You’ll embarrass Carol at best,” Leonard says. “At worst, the whole thing could blow up. Jim could get angry, Carol could get angry— God forbid Jim decides he wants custody or something and Carol says no. David could be put in a position that no child should be put in, believe me. I’ve seen it before.”

 

“It’s logical, Spock,” Sam adds. “For Humans, anyway.”

 

Spock’s mouth purses.

 

“So we say nothing?”

 

“Not until Carol says something first,” Leonard says firmly. “It’s better that way, all around.”

 

Spock nods sharply.

 

“Very well,” he says. “With that settled, Sam— you said Admiral Pike wished to speak with us?”

 

Sam blinks.

 

“I lied, Spock,” he says. “It was an excuse to leave Jim alone with his kid for a few minutes.”

 

“... You simply might have said that we ought to leave.”

 

“Yeah, but that would peak Jim’s interest.” Sam shrugs. “If Pike’s name is in a sentence that doesn’t involve certain key phrases, Jim assumes it’s paperwork or getting reamed for being stupid and lets it go. Elsewise he might get dragged into the muck.”

 

Spock nods slowly, understanding spreading across his blank features.

 

“I sometimes forget you were present for much of his childhood,” he says. Ouch.

 

“Yeah, well, I try to block those years from my mind for the most part.” He reaches out and pats Spock on the back. “Wanna see your niblings? There’s two new ones who are just  _ begging  _ to make a Vulcan awkwardly hold them.”

 

“... Perhaps for a moment.” Spock tilts his head to one side. “Your second son… he is truly named Sybok?”

 

Sam’s lip quirks.

 

“He was my best friend,” he says. “What else would we call him?”

 

 

*.*

 

 

Spock is really good with kids, Jim thinks when his family finally comes back to his hospital room. Baby Sybok won’t let go of his shirt, happy to toddle behind Spock wherever he goes on those fat two-year old legs he has. It’s so goddamn adorable, Jim can’t deal with it.

 

He’s good with David, too, once he gets used to the kid cuddling up to Jim. 

 

(Damn right, the kid’s a cuddler, which is great, because Jim’s a cuddler too, and David has the added bonus of not having hit puberty yet, so he still smells like clean Terran living as opposed to an oozing muck monster.)

 

But yeah, Spock’s good with David. He even signs one of his trading cards for him, once David explains the purpose of them (“There is none, Mr. Spock. They’re just cool.”), and actually expounds on some of the little trivia facts listed on his card.

 

“Did you really tell the Vulcan Academy to screw off?”

 

“I did not. I politely declined.”

 

Overall, Jim’s pretty pleased Carol brought David. He’s a bright young kid, happy to play with Peter— who, off-topic, has gotten _ big— _ and ask about the different concentrations one could have within the science track and the steps that could be taken in preparation. All around, it’s a good time, even if Sam and Bones keep giving him weird looks.

 

He’s getting better. Soon he’ll be walking and working like the Starfleet Captain he is— sorry, that was insensitive to Pike. But, he’ll be working, and that’s what matters, because Jim without work? That’s like being… not Jim.

 

“Hey Spock,” he says, turning to his husband.

 

“Yes, Jim?”

 

“I wanna get married.”

 

The room goes quiet.

 

“Jim, we are married.”

 

“The Human way,” Jim agrees. “But like, the bond broke when I died, right?”

 

Spock’s eyebrow twitches at the memory.

 

“Yes.”

 

“So… we have to get bonded again.”

 

“... Yes.”

 

“So let’s go all-out,” he says. “Interspecies Wedding, Part Two: Vulcan’s Revenge. We can do the whole bonding ceremony thing and everything.”

 

Spock stares.

 

“Are— are you certain?”

 

“Of course!” Jim grins. “It’ll be fun.”

 

The room is very, very quiet as everyone’s focus turns to Spock, awaiting his answer.

 

“I will… contact my father,” he says, straightening. “He can make the necessary arrangements.”

 

“Awesome!” Jim leans over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Carol, you and David are invited of course, Bones, Aurie, babies, you too— and you can bring Sam, I guess.”

 

“Gee, thanks,” Sam mutters, smiling despite himself. “Though, for the record, that was a piss-poor proposal, little brother.”

 

Leonard snorts.

 

“You should’ve seen him the first time,” he says. “In his goddamn boxers, distracting us from our mission.”

 

“Mission?” David asks. “What do you mean?”

 

“Hikaru Sulu,” Spock says. “Otherwise known as the houseplant.”

 

Leonard launches into the story, and Jim finds himself content to settle into the pillows and watch. This is good. He’s going to get better, he’s going to get married (for the third time, technically), and all his family’s around him, laughing and happy and just… existing.

 

Yeah, Jim’s life? It’s worked itself out quite neatly. Better than expected, really. 

 

Now all he needs is a ship that’ll take him to Vulcan and a doctor who’s willing to sign his release forms.

 

Because Bones? Isn’t going to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's the end (again)! Properly, this time.
> 
> ...
> 
> (Okay maybe don't hold us to it we have a couple of oneshots in the works and possibly a sequel series. We can't stop writing. Send help.)
> 
> Edit: There is a sequel series. The next (and last) installment in this series doubles as the first installment in the next. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


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